


Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Somnophilia, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Pre-Relationship, Rhys as Jack's PA, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 20:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14528712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: A drowsy Rhys takes a nap on the couch in Jack's office in the middle of the workday, allowing the CEO to take a much more intimate look at the man who's long served as his assistant.Alternate title: "Sweet Dreams Are Made of Rhys."





	Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something with Jack admiring and touching a sleeping Rhys up close. Nothing sexual happens but he definitely touches Rhys a bit creepily so avoid this if that might make you uncomfortable.

“Man, I did _not_ sleep well last night,” Rhys says, for not the first time this afternoon. Jack lifts his chin up from where he’d been resting it against his open palm, casting a raised eyebrow in his assistant’s direction.

“Coffee?” Jack suggested with a swish of his own, almost empty mug—the novelty one with the little ceramic unicorn horn and the sparkling mane forming the handle. Rhys rubbed his temples, shaking his head and pointing to his little, bright blue tumbler.

“Been working on this for the past hour…hasn’t really been helping.” Rhys shook his head a few times, as if the sudden movement could jiggle the fog from his brain loose. It only really helped to fray a couple wayward hairs out of his slick-backed style, making him look even more frazzled.

Jack kept his eye on the kid for a couple more minutes, judging whether he needed to do something to help his assistant focus. He watched Rhys miss grabbing for his cup once, twice, before successfully bringing it up to his lips. True to what he’d said, the caffeine didn’t seem to do much for Rhys’ energy, and after Jack witnessed him repeatedly try to set a message without inputting a recipient he finally decided to speak up.

“Come on, pumpkin. Get with it, or I’m gonna have to force you to take a nap.” He pointed towards the couch far right of Rhys’ desk. “You’re no use to me half-cocked and conked-out.”

“I’m not…I can focus. Promise.” Jack watched as Rhys nestled his chin into his palm and stared down at the glowing tablet beneath him. He kept his eyes on his assistant until Rhys’ eyelids started drooping, getting up when Rhys’ elbow slid against the desk and he crumpled forward.

“All right, sugar, that’s quite enough of that.” Jack rose to his feet, wheeling his chair away as he crept over to Rhys’ desk. He expected some half-hearted response from the clearly exhausted assistant, but as he peered over at Rhys’ slumped body he could see his eyes were closed, mouth open and already a little wet with sleepy drool. Jack rolled his eyes with a sigh, planting his hands on his hips as he took a moment to survey the situation.

If Rhys stayed here he was gonna get a frikkin’ crick in his neck and whine all the rest of the day, so he couldn’t stay here. Jack eyed the couch—his initial suggestion, weighing the distance between it and Rhys’ desk. Annoying as it was, he definitely had more than enough brute strength to lug Rhys’ sleepy carcass all the way over and dump him until he got enough sleep to be useful.

Jack half-expected Rhys to jolt awake when he slid his hands underneath the kid’s armpits, but he hung like dead weight as Jack carefully lifted him up from the chair. Jack grumbled as he tried to figure out the best way to carry Rhys’ lanky frame, quickly deciding to keep him laying across his forearms so all he’d have to do was squat down an roll the kid off onto the couch as soon as he got him over there.

Jack shuffled carefully, not wanting to trip and smash his bone-headed little assistant across the floor in their journey towards the couch. Rhys stirred just a little in his arms, smacking his lips softly. _Jeez_. Kid really had conked out likelight.

He crouched besides the couch with mercifully little twinging from his lower back, carefully shifting Rhys off of his arms and onto the flat leather cushions. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing to lay on, but Rhys didn’t seem to mind as he settled in with an unconscious sigh.

Jack adjusted Rhys carefully on the couch, making sure none of his limbs were hanging over the edge in case he decided to switch positions in his sleep. Thankfully, like everything else in Jack’s office, the couch was huge. More like a twin bed than a couch meant for sitting. It’d certainly come in handy when Jack had invited someone up to the office to get a little frisky.

It’d be the perfect place for Rhys to get a little nap in so he could turn the fairly unproductive afternoon around. Not that there was much that needed doing today, aside from the usual daily maintenance that came with running a huge company, Rhys only had to answer a couple pieces of mail that Jack could probably do himself at home later tonight if it came to that.

Still. Rhys liked to keep himself busy.

Speaking of keeping busy, Jack should be heading back over to his desk and getting back to work. But instead he sat on the ample space at the edge of the couch, watching Rhys sleep. Thinking.

His eyes roved slowly over the length of Rhys’ body, taking in everything from the scaly white tips of his boots to the coif of his hair, now slightly tousled back against the couch. Jack stuck out his lower lip as he came to linger upon Rhys’ face, even scooting a little closer, until his hip brushed up against the kid’s side, to get a better view

Now that Jack had time to sit down and look at him properly, he realizedRhys was kind of pretty for a guy. Jack was used to either his own face—or those who he forced to carry it—the roughly hewn, hairy mugs of mercenaries, or the flabby, varicose jowls of executives. But Rhys looking nothing like any of those. He had a pronounced jawline and cheekbones, but all his edges softened a little bit with lingering baby fat. How old was Rhys again? Jack tried to think back to when he’d examined the boy’s file, toying with the idea of hiring him on. Twenty-five…twenty-six? Older?

And yet he still looked fairly soft and smooth, able to hang onto his youth despite his fairly stressful job as Jack’s personal assistant. He knew he wasn’t an easy man to work for, that he had high standards and violent repercussions hanging over the heads of his employees, especially those close to him, but Rhys juggled Jack’s demands with surprising competence. And kept his hair and clothes and composure immaculate, though Jack often teased him for his choice in wardrobe.

But even that looked less mockable up close. The contrast between bright, primary red, blue and yellow appeared less childish, less like Rhys had no clue what to put on in the morning so he just threw together a mishmash of everything he had.

His knuckles brushed against Rhys’ steadily breathing chest as he took the tie in hand. He grasped the tip of it with his other hand, pulling it slightly taunt against his palm as he slid it upwards, until his thumb brushed against the knot laying back against Rhys’ throat. He gave it a light tug. Rhys’ throat twitched in his sleep as he swallowed, giving Jack pause. He watched his assistant sleepily smack his lips, before tilting his head slightly to the side and settling back down. Jack’s eyes fell back over the bit of neck that’d been exposed to him, quickly zeroing in on the black ink circling the left side of his throat.

Jack had seen the tattoo in full once, when he’d first hired Rhys on. After all, he had to make sure his wannabe assistant didn’t have something potentially embarrassing or hilarious tattooed on his skin. But nope, turned out it was just some weird design that he hadn’t asked Rhys to elaborate on further. From then, he’d seen it only fleetingly, arching up above the starch white of Rhys’ collar whenever the young man stretched his neck out or adjusted his shirt.

Jack could catch a much better glance at it now. In fact, he even dared to pinch at Rhys’ collar and pull it down slightly to get a good look. The circular design seemed almost like a target, drawing Jack’s eyes to the center, making him think more about the tone and softness of Rhys’ skin than it had any right to do.

He frowned at himself.

All right. Jack was _officially_ getting into creeper territory with this. This was the kind of thing that HR made useless little videos about, reminding Hyperion employees to treat each other like human beings even as they traded in arms that destroyed lives planets away. Jack had always found those corporate niceties a little ironic, but even so they flashed through his mind as he carefully loosened the knot of Rhys’ tie.

The pop of the first button on Rhys’ shirt felt momentous. Crossing the line between what Rhys allowed Jack to see during the day and what he might really be like. A little thrill of excitement hummed through Jack’s gut as he peeled away a bit of the fabric to get a better look at the pale skin underneath, like a little kid pulling away the foil to reveal a delicious piece of candy.

But what he found was different than what he’d expected. He found more of Rhys’ pretty flesh, but instead of pure, pinkish pale his eyes fell upon lines of pretty blue. A shade deeper than the shirt covering it up, duskier with the slight age of the ink. They didn’t look _too_ old, but it’d obviously been awhile since Rhys had gone in for a touch-up.

Jack had grown used to the little tattoo on Rhys’ neck, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the sudden knowledge of the rest of them. He’d always figured the first one to be either a dare between him and one of his little friends, or a corny attempt to set himself apart from the rest of the rank and file. He’d never believed there might be _more_.

Jack carefully peeled away more of the shirt, hoping to catch a little more of Rhys’ chest without risking popping open another button. He could see the cobalt ink swirling in thick, contrasting patterns. He traced his fingers lightly at the edges of Rhys’ tattoos, wondering how far they crawled down his body, and for a split second he gave into the temptation to _explore_.

Bu then, Jack accidentally felt Rhys’ heartbeat, the warmth beating against the tips of his fingers, and drew his hand back. _Careful,_ he chastised.

Jack moved his hand back towards the center of Rhys’ chest, fingers resting at the little divot where his collarbones met. He could feel the firm protrusion from underneath Rhys’ skin, marveling a little at how far it stuck out.

Come to think of it, Rhys was pretty slender. His shoulders were firm, and Jack could see where the sleeve of his shirt tugged a little around the muscles in his upper arm, but he wasn’t all that big around generally speaking. The job of a code-monkey turned personal assistant didn’t really leave many opportunities to bulk up, Jack supposed.Not that he minded. In fact, he almost wished Rhys wore different clothes to accentuate his figure better. Maybe the kid was embarrassed, and wanted to hide just how exactly he was shaped from fellow employees. But he didn’t need to hide anything from Jack.

He carefully pulled the teal fabric of Rhys’ shirt a little tighter against his middle. Yep. Slim little waist, almost like a woman’s. Though he wasn’t all skinny. A little bit of pudginess stood out against the taunt fabric of Rhys’ shirt, poking out slightly over the waistband of his pants even as from a lying down position. He knew the kid had a bit of a sweet tooth, but had never thought Rhys could be hiding such a cute little belly underneath his clothes.

Wait…. _cute_?

Well. It was just an objective fact. Rhys looked pretty cute up close, while he slept. There was nothing wrong with Jack just stating the obvious. Anyone with eyes could see it plain and simple.

Jack’s fingers twiddled in debate for a moment, before he carefully smoothed his palm down, resting it against Rhys’ stomach. His heart took an extra leap at the slow feeling of Rhys’ breathing beneath his hand, his flesh expanding and falling imperceptibly, unnoticeable if Jack weren’t pressing his hand up against it. He could feel the fine little hairs beneath Rhys’ belly button tickle . He wondered if the hair at all darkened as it traveled downwards, or if Rhys was downy smooth all over. For a moment, he considered risking a peek, fingers dancing on the buckle of Rhys’ belt, only to mentally kick himself away.

Sure, Jack was at the top of the food chain and could basically take whatever he wanted with little consequence. But he was also the _hero_ , the defender of all that was righteous and profitable. And taking off someone’s pants while they were sleeping was definitely very much not heroic.

Best to just keep things above the belt. He wasn’t a _freak_.

His hand lingered on Rhys’ middle, the other coming to rest next to its sibling. Jack studied the way his palms sized up to the boy’s waist carefully. He’d never realized before how large his own hands were, how tanned and scarred they were compared to someone like Rhys, who’d by all Jack knew lived a fairly easy life before signing it over to Hyperion. Jack remembered Rhys’ home planet from his file—Eden 5, a _literal_ paradise—and his alma mater wasn’t exactly some shady diploma mill.

The eye in arm, in that context, felt like an odd mutilation now that he thought about it. Not that Jack disliked the aesthetics nor the capabilities of Rhys’ cybernetic enhancements, but it felt odd to replace functional parts. Someone like Rhys had clearly already been perfect to begin with, unlike _Jack_ , who’d needed a bit more fine-tuning to pull himself up from the ratty underclass of Hyperion up. He had the scars proving his fight, but Rhys’ were all self-inflicted.

If the kid was less pretty, the idea might’ve almost made Jack angry. He might’ve wanted to lift those same big, rough hands up to Rhys’ slim, tender neck with the distracting tattoo and press down until he felt something break. Or at least

But when he raised his hands they didn’t fall on Rhys’ neck, no. They palmed on either side of the young man’s head, fingernails scratching slightly against the leather of the couch as Jack balled them into half-fists. He practically straddles Rhys’ long legs as he props himself above him. He looks into Rhys’ face, practically nose to nose, close enough that he can smell lunch and coffee and something else, something far sweeter wafting up from the young man’s pearly pink lips with each breath.

Any resolve or shame that Jack had left had all but evaporated as he leaned in closer, until his own breath, still dusty from his last smoke break, had started to mingle with Rhys’ precious little exhales. Their lips sat only a few inches apart, close enough that any explanation might sound suspect, and just as Jack prepared himself to close that last breath of space Rhys’ eyes fluttered open and gazed up at him with a glassy, confused stare.

And Jack—in his infinite, obvious wisdom—did the first thing that came to his mind.

He reared up, raised his hand high in the air, and slapped a wide palm right across Rhys’ face.

The young assistant yelped in surprise, his arms flailing to grab at his wounded cheek. The distraction gave Jack just enough time to hop up off of the kid’s body. He folded his arms tight about his chest, trying to look as innocent as possible as Rhys sat up sharply and glared at him.

“What the _hell_ was that about?” Rhys cried, muffled from behind his palm.

“You uh…you…” Jack scratched at his own cheek. “You had something on your face. Uh. Bug. Big guy.” He indicated with two fingers. “Had to smack it off before it stung you and injected you with like. Weird space poison or something.”

Rhys’ eyebrows twitched between confusion and anger and he struggled to properly evaluate Jack’s excuse.

“A bug…in your office…? The most regularly maintained space in all of Helios?” Rhys’ eyebrows decided on an incredulous furrow. Jack scowled.

“Are you questioning me?”

Rhys squinted at him hard for a moment, before relenting.

“No…”

“Good. Good! Cause I just saved your life from a weird-ass space bug. You should be grateful, really.”

Rhys sighed.

“Of course. Eternally.”

The assistant dropped his hand from his face, checking his palm for blood. Jack could clearly see his slap had left Rhys’ cheek pink and smarting, but he’d moved too quick for any lasting damage. Rhys sniffled, rubbing at his nose.

“Well… _that_ definitely woke me up…”

“Well. Good. That’s good. Great. We should probably both get back to work anyway. Way too many distractions today.”

Jack was already swaggering back to his desk, eager to leave that whole little scene behind him. He wheeled his chair back towards the desk and sat back down with a heavy _thump_ , expecting Rhys’ to mosey on back to his own and get back to work, hopefully with more productive energy. But Rhys stayed standing, looking down at himself, and when Jack peered over to scold him for not hopping back on the job, his stomach plummeted down towards his groin.

Rhys held the unbuttoned part of his collar, evidence of just how far Jack’s curious hand’s had gone. Evidence that Jack, in his haste, had forgotten to cover back up. Rhys’ eyebrows raised at the older man, even as the corners of his mouth debated between an affronted frown and a knowing smirk.

“So…” Rhys walked closer, giving Jack little room to up and run like he _so_ wanted. “I guess that bug must’ve undone my shirt too, huh?”


End file.
